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Poem by Charles Tennyson Turner The White Horse of Westbury As from the Dorset shore I travell'd home, I saw the charger of the Wiltshire wold; A far-seen figure, stately to behold, Whose groom the shepherd is, the hoe his comb; His wizard-spell even sober daylight own'd; That night I dream'd him into living will; He neigh'd - and straight, the chalk pour'd down the hill hill; He shook himself and all beneath was stoned; Hengist and Horsa shouted o'er my sleep, Like fierce Achilles; while that storm-blanch'd horse Sprang to the van of all the Saxon Force, And push'd the Britons to the Western deep; Then, dream-wise, as it were a thing of course, He floated upwards, and regain'd the steep. Charles Tennyson Turner Charles Tennyson Turner's other poems:
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